Family Ties
by PhantomTF
Summary: A medical examination turns Hot Rod's world upside down.... Could Optimus Prime really be his father?
1. Chapter One

Author's Note: This story takes place after Rebirth, where the Decepticons are more or less defeated and a new Golden Age is brought about on Cybertron. Optimus Prime is once again in command, and Rodimus has reverted back to Hot Rod. I've also chosen to resurrect Ratchet for my own purposes. If Optimus could be resurrected, perhaps the funeral barge containing the others could be salvaged and the other deceased Autobots restored.

Chapter One

The voices washed over him, garbled and jumbled together. Colors mixed and blurred before his optics, refusing to give him a clear picture. Error messages scrawled across his CPU. Not as many as he'd feared, but then again, that could be because the diagnostics had been damaged as well. The mech groaned to himself. This was not shaping up to be a good day.

"Hot Rod!" he heard voices call anxiously, and then a gentle arm was cradling his head. The world spun for a moment, then righted itself with a sickening jerk. He groaned. Why couldn't they just leave him alone to rest?

His vision faded to near-black as several pairs of arms lifted him as gently as possible and carried him off the battlefield. The part of him that was still lucid was wildly grateful for the dampers on his pain circuitry, or else he'd be in excruciating pain by now. His audio receptors strained to make sense out of the babbling around him, but his systems were just too strained. With a sigh, he gave in and allowed the darkness to claim him.

"Do you think he'll be okay?" Ultra Magnus asked softly as he shut First Aid's back door, the patient ready for transport.

"Hard to say," the medic replied in his vehicle form. "He looks pretty banged up, but I've seen 'bots with worse injuries get up and keep fighting. I'll have to do a diagnostic to tell you anything else."

"Take good care of him," Magnus said, a small quaver in his voice betraying his concern. First Aid was not offended by the words - he understood that Magnus was merely worried about his friend, and was not casting aspersions on his medical abilities. "Will do," the medic replied gravely and drove off in the direction of Metroplex, being extra-careful not to jar his occupant.

Magnus turned back to the battlefield, a sudden white-hot flash of anger spreading through him. He would make sure that no others were injured that day! "Take that, Decepticons!" he yelled, firing volley after volley at the invaders.

"My lord, we are under siege!" Cyclonus exclaimed, ducking as a burst grazed his head. "Since when do the Autobots fight with such intensity?"

"No matter!" Galvatron snarled. "We will fight on until every last one is nothing but a pile of smoking rubble!" He suddenly changed his mind, however, when he was hit full-on by a mortar shell.

"My lord, you are injured!" the Decepticon lieutenant exclaimed, rushing to his leader's aid.

Galvatron batted him aside. "I am fine, fool!" he cried, ignoring the damage. "Decepticons, retreat! We cannot win this day!" His shrill command echoed across the battlefield, and with reluctance, the battered Decepticons began to pull out, already planning the next encounter in their minds.

"I thought they'd never leave!" Springer exclaimed jauntily as he knocked the dust off of his chassis, searching for any injuries that may seem minor but could cause a lot of fuel loss.

Ultra Magnus suddenly felt a pang, missing Hot Rod's jibes after a battle. Despite the young lad's short stint as Autobot leader, he still had a little maturing to do. And to tell the truth, though he'd never confess it to anyone, a part of him really liked the mech's wisecracks and crazy antics. It kept the old warriors like him from brooding too much about casualties and gave everyone a much-needed laugh. A black cloud seemed to be hanging over the Autobots as each warrior's thoughts turned to the much-beloved youth suffering in medbay. Each one said a silent prayer for their friend and wished him a speedy recovery.

"What a day," Kup said gravely as he walked up, startling Magnus out of his reverie.

The City Commander jumped. "Oh, it's you."

"Don't act so thrilled," the veteran snorted. "I'm going to get working on how those dang-blasted 'Cons got in here... right after I pay a visit to the lad, of course."

"That's just where I was headed, actually," Magnus confessed.

Kup hid a knowing smile. Ultra Magnus provided himself on keeping a level head during a crisis, but the old warrior could see that his friend was worried about Hot Rod. Try as he might to deny it, the City Commander had a soft spot where his young friend was concerned.

The two kept up a businesslike front as they walked to medbay, each unwilling to show just how worried they were about the war's latest victim. "So, any hunches on how the Decepticons slipped by us?" Magnus asked.

"One or two," the security chief replied. "I'll start investigating just as soon as I get back to my office. First, though, I'd like to make sure that the lad is okay, then I'll chew him out for getting distracted and assign four hours in the training room!"

Ultra Magnus chuckled, his spirits lifting slightly. "Hot Rod will be glad to be injured just to postpone that punishment!"

The two walked into medbay, stationing themselves by their young friend's side. Magnus reached out and gently touched the youth's limp hand, wishing he could transfer his strength to his stricken friend.

"I'm sorry," First Aid said gently, "but I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to stand aside. This is a delicate procedure, and I'm going to need space."

"No problem, First Aid," Magnus said respectfully. "We won't be long."

Kup and Magnus watched silently as the Protectobot medic ran several scans and fussed over numerous monitors. Kup would never admit it, but being in medbay gave him the surges. He was a fighter, and through the course of his long life he had spent many times hooked up to these confounded machines, fighting for his life. He was staunchly glad that he had no idea what the equipment did - it would heal any Transformer it was hooked up to, and that was good enough for him.

His train of thought was broken by the sound of running feet. He turned curiously to see Ratchet, the Autobots' chief medical officer, rush in. The old warrior suppressed another shudder. There was yet another Autobot who had actually *been* dead but had been reactivated by the Quintessons, at Optimus Prime's request, and now lives to tell the tale. It was all just too creepy for him. Kup had lived with the specter of death by his side too long to fear it, but this was just too unnatural for him. Each robot had his or her time, and when it came, that was it. This whole reanimation thing just gave him the creeps.

"Ah good, you've started," the CMO said abruptly, never one for formalities. "Have you done a microscan? You never know what these 'Cons are capable of - they could've easily put some kind of corrosive liquid in one of their weapons, or perhaps a listening device. You've got to be ready for anything."

"I was just doing that," First Aid said calmly, letting nothing ruffle him. He was quite used to his superior's brusque manners and took it in stride, knowing that it was the result of too many emergency surgeries. When seconds count, small talk was an unaffordable luxury. However, once Ratchet saw that the situation was not critical, he could do more than his fair share of chitchat, and First Aid had seen first-hand Ratchet's willingness to party.

"Scan complete," the Protectobot announced without looking up from the stricken robot.

Ratchet glanced up briefly, keeping most of his attention on Hot Rod's torso, which he was trying to patch up with a temporary metal bandage plate. "No, no, that's Optimus Prime's scan that I took earlier this morning during one of his physicals. After I dragged him here, of course," he grumbled. Sensing that something was amiss, he glanced up, meeting First Aid's stunned expression. "What? What is it?"

First Aid gestured weakly at the monitor displaying Hot Rod's scan. "That's not Optimus' scan, it's Hot Rod's. But they've got far too many similarities for it to be a coincidence."

Ratchet had a very strange feeling, like they had just stumbled upon something earth-shattering, to use a human term. "Display Optimus Prime's schematics alongside Hot Rod's," he said hoarsely. There was a collective gasp as the files appeared side-by-side. It was obvious to even Kup and Magnus that these files were very much alike.

"What does it all mean?" Magnus asked softly, almost afraid to break the expectant hush in the room.

The two medics looked at each other meaningfully, then Ratchet nodded, as if agreeing to share what was on both of their minds. He gestured to First Aid to explain, which the Protectobot did a bit hesitantly. "There's only one reason that I can think of that would explain such incredible similarities in Hot Rod and Prime's schematics. As you know, such a detailed scan reveals detailed information on a Transformer, sort of like a blueprint, or DNA in organic life. The similarities between these robots could be purposely created, if someone desired to create a robot using Optimus Prime's schematics, but according to Hot Rod's file, he was created through a natural, though seldom used, Transformer birthing process on a remote outpost with scanty medical resources. He was constructed within his mother's body using the schematics of his progenitors, not in a lab, and there is no way, with his home planet's pitiful medbay, that he could be genetically altered."

Kup and Ultra Magnus were both gaping, the truth starting to slowly sink in. They both wrestled with the concept, realizing that this would have immense consequences. Magnus' mouth worked soundlessly, then gasped, "So that means-"

Ratchet nodded solemnly. "Optimus Prime is Hot Rod's natural father."


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

The small group of Autobots stood aside respectfully as their leader rushed into the room. Despite his hurry, he still managed to retain his calm composure that had gotten their faction through so many tough times. "I came as soon as I heard," Optimus said, looking at the prone figure on the medical berth with concern. "How bad is it?"

"It's not as bad as it looks," First Aid replied with the same air of calmness. "The crisis point has passed. He's lost a bit more fuel than we would have liked, but he's already on the road to recovery. In fact, he should regain consciousness in about one Terran day."

"That's good news," Optimus mused, stroking his chin absentmindedly. "I'm glad to hear that our young friend is doing well. However, I don't understand the urgency that you showed when you summoned me. Is there something else that requires my attention?"

"Erm, you could say that," Ultra Magnus said slowly, wondering how to broach the subject. "You see, we discovered something out of the ordinary when Hot Rod's schematics were displayed. There were quite a few distinct features, that, well…." His voice trailed off, suddenly unable to form the all-important words. He looked desperately at the medical officers for help.

"If you would look at the screen, sir," First Aid picked up smoothly, covering for his superior's fumbling, "I think you will see something interesting."

Optimus complied politely, his impatience beginning to show. "I don't have very much time in my schedule to review internal schematics," he said firmly. "Perhaps if you sent me a briefing about it…." His voice trailed off as he stared at the screen. "What is that?" he gasped.

"Well, the one on the left is your schematics," the Protectobot explained. "The one on the right is Hot Rod's."

"Is it usual for two Transformers to share such similar schematics?" the Autobot leader inquired, his impatience vanishing. This clearly required his attention.

"Not for your average assembly-line robot," Ratchet told him. "Except for certain exceptions, such as "brothers" like Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, and the Autobot and Decepticon clones, Cloudraker and Fastlane, and Pounce and Wingspan, each Transformer has certain characteristics that are unique. These exceptions are, of course, the result of purposely altering their schematics."

"The only way such similarities could occur would be through a natural procreation process, where the schematics of two parental units are used to create a third entity."

"Are you saying…" Optimus said slowly, trying to grasp the situation, "that I had a hand in Hot Rod's creation somehow?"

"That's right!" Ratchet exclaimed, grasping his friend's hand and pumping it vigorously. "Congratulations, you're a father!"

"Father?" The world around him suddenly turned grainy, and he swayed on his feet. Ultra Magnus and Kup raced to brace him. "I don't understand," he said weakly. "How could such a thing happen?"

The others struggled to contain their grins. Despite the seriousness of the situation, his question was rather funny. "Well," Ratchet said, deadpan, "it goes like this. When a mech and a femme are really, really in love, sometimes they get together and go through a certain process that very rarely, in our species, results in procreation."

"I KNOW about that!" Optimus growled.

"Obviously," Magnus muttered, trying to suppress his chuckles.

"There's just one thing," First Aid said cautiously, not wanting to make a bizarre situation even worse. "We compared Hot Rod's stats to Alita One's, in the hopes of identifying his maternal progenitor. There was no match."

It took a few moments for the implication to sink in. Everyone looked at Optimus askance. The Autobot leader felt distinctly uneasy under all the scrutiny. "But that's impossible!" he exclaimed. "I've never had relations with anyone but- oh Primus," he sighed. "I had forgotten all about that."

"Guess it wasn't very memorable," Kup whispered to Magnus, who covered his mouth to hide his grin. It wasn't very often that Optimus served as such an amusing target of their jokes.

"So what about Hot Rod?" the Autobot leader asked pointedly, trying to direct unwanted attention away from himself. "Is he going to be all right? Could I stay with him?"

Ratchet sobered, recalling his patient. "He's stabilized now. He won't be coherent until sometime tomorrow, but you are welcome to stay with him, if you like. We'll just wheel him in to post-op and get everything set up."

"Thank you, Ratchet," Prime said gratefully, giving the others a baleful glare. "Now, don't the rest of you have work to do? If not, I'm sure I could arrange something. The waste disposal units could use some scrubbing," he said pointedly. His audience grimaced and quickly hurried away, not willing to further provoke him.

"I can't believe it," he muttered, watching the two medics wheel the damaged Hot Rod into the post-op room. "I'm a father!"


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Hot Rod groaned quietly as his optics flickered on unsteadily. The room came slowly into focus. "Hiya, doc," he croaked weakly as Ratchet's face swam into focus. "What's the damage?"

"Looks like you're going to make it," Ratchet replied. "Just be more careful next time, alright? We're getting tired of patching you up after every battle."

"Yes, sir!" Hot Rod chirped, mock-saluting. "Have I been discharged yet?"

"You're free to go. By the way, Optimus wants to see you in his office ASAP."

"Optimus?" Hot Rod exclaimed. Something tickled at the back of his head. "Was he here last night? I think I remember hearing his voice."

"He was here," Ratchet confirmed. "If you feel up to it, you should go see him right away. He has an urgent matter to discuss with you."

Hot Rod shuddered. A summons from Optimus usually meant that he was in trouble. "I'm feeling a little shaky, but I'd better get this over with. Whish me luck!"

"I'll let him know you're coming," Ratchet nodded. "Good luck!"

Hot Rod left medbay, shaking his head. Ratchet had seemed a little odd to him. Maybe he needed a vacation or something. Now what could Optimus want to talk to him about? Maybe he had found out just who was behind the scheme to paint a target on Metroplex's wide posterior. Oh dear, he was in for it! Why did nobody in the command structure of the Autobots have a sense of humor? Even when he had been Rodimus, he had kept his wacky temperament.

'Weird,' he thought to himself as those he passed turned to stare. 'Something's definitely up. Why is everyone staring at me like that? Is my gearbox hanging out?' He ducked into a small niche to give himself a visual inspection. Nope, everything was in order. What could be going on? Maybe he was in for some real trouble!

With a sinking feeling, he rapped timidly on the office of the Autobot leader. "Enter," a deep voice replied. A bizarre feeling of déjà vu overcame him. It was not so long ago that *he* had been summoning visitors from the other side of the foreboding door. With a sinking feeling, he opened the door and slunk in.

"Please sit down." Optimus gestured towards the chairs that were lined up before the massive desk. 'At least he kept the new chairs I ordered,' Roddy thought a bit bitterly. 'That's about the only thing he kept the same!'

"Am I in any trouble, sir?" the youth asked timidly. The walk over, especially with all the staring, had been enough to rattle his nerves. "If this is about the target on Metroplex, I'm really very sorry about that—"

"You're not in any trouble, Hot Rod," Optimus said softly, gazing at him solemnly.

'Something really must be up!' Roddy thought nervously. He didn't even notice the comment about Metroplex. Normally he'd nail my hide to the wall!

"Then, uh, what can I do for you, sir?"

Optimus Prime steepled his fingers together and fixed him with a direct stare. "I was hoping that you could give me some information on your creation, Hot Rod. As I'm sure you know, you are a very singular Autobot."

'Is *that* all?' Roddy thought, relaxing visibly. 'All the information I have is already on file! But if that's what the big cheese wants, that's what he'll get.' The young bot frowned slightly, his optics becoming glazed over as his memory reached into the past.

"Well," he began slowly, "I was 'born' on the moon Tul, orbiting the planet Yolan in the Nova sector. My maternal unit was a scientist named Phantasma, who was assigned to convert the moon into a communications base and refueling station. There were only about twenty-five Autobots assigned to the moon station. I was only a few hundred years old when the Decepticons attacked." His face became twisted in a grimace of pain. "As I'm sure you already know, I was the only survivor of the attack. Kup's battalion found me hiding in the rubble after the attack and brought me back to Cybertron. That's about all I can tell you."

Prime's optics narrowed slightly. "Don't you have any information on your paternal unit? It seems odd that you did not mention a father."

Hot Rod shrugged. "I never knew my father. Mother mentioned him only a handful of times. She would never tell me who he was—only that he was an important Autobot on Cybertron. But that could have been almost anyone. I've always been a little curious about him, but since everybody else I know was created on the assembly line, it hasn't worried me too much."

Optimus stood slowly and circled the desk, leaning against it. He rustled a few data printouts absentmindedly. It seemed to be more of a nervous gesture than anything productive. "Well, *ahem*, it seems that I may be able to satisfy your curiosity. Ratchet and First Aid compared some detailed scans of us. It seems," he bent the printouts in half unconsciously, "that we share more than a few structural similarities. In fact, our internal schematics are nearly identical at first glance." The printouts shredded in his hands, and Optimus fiddled with the pieces mindlessly, then dropped them, fixing Hot Rod with a direct, unflinching gaze. "Hot Rod, if what they tell me is true, then I am the father that you have been searching for."

Hot Rod stared dumbly at his commanding officer, mouth agape. His first reaction was to laugh—that Ratchet, what a kidder! But the laughter died before it could escape his voice module. Optimus Prime was deadly serious. He would never participate in such a joke. If it were true, if Optimus really was his father, it could explain a few things. His affinity for the Matrix, for example…. Hot Rod found his thought processes creating a traffic jam in his neural net.

"I can understand your shock," Optimus began again when the silence became unbearable. "I was rather shocked too, when I found out." He reached behind him and found a paper fastener, which he began to industriously twist into a new shape.

"H—how? Why?" Hot Rod finally managed to activate his voice module. He grimaced at the sound – his voice sounded hoarse, as if he had swallowed gravel. "I don't understand…." He trailed off, staring at the being that he had venerated for so long. Optimus Prime had been his lifelong hero. That the revered Autobot leader could be his father… it just didn't make sense!

"I suppose I owe you an explanation." Optimus seemed enraptured by the paper fastener that he was mutating. Hot Rod realized with a jolt that Optimus Prime was even more uncomfortable about the situation than he was. "Alita One and myself had always wanted to create offspring together. We knew that such a thing was an impossibility during the war – we could never subject a child to such a way of life – but it was one of our many dreams for when the war ended. We also knew that such a practice would be risky, since it was so rarely done. And yet, we held on to our dreams. But then a visit to Ratchet destroyed our hopes." The Autobot leader's voice became slightly bitter. "It seems that Alita One was incapable of bearing a spark. I tried to console her, but she was devastated."

Hot Rod nodded in sympathy, not knowing what else to do. He felt guilty – this sort of private information was really none of his business. Optimus almost never divulged anything about his personal life. For him to do so now signified the gravity of the situation.

Optimus plowed on, seemingly lost in his monologue. "I thought that the possibility of creating a spark was lost to us forever. It was difficult to accept, but we had no other choice but to go on." He made an embarrassed coughing noise. "It was about this time that the Nova project, as it was known, came to fruition. Phantasma approached me with the concept of creating a sort of communications outpost in the Nova sector. I thought it was a refreshingly new idea and approved it on the spot. We met several times to discuss the details, but our relationship was always professional. I honestly did not have interest in her outside of the project."

Optimus continued to twist the paper fastener. It currently bore a resemblance to a Terran rabbit. "Finally the time came for Phantasma's team of scientists and cyberformers to depart for the Nova sector. I wanted to be on hand personally to send off her team. As luck would have it, I ran in to her on the way to the shuttle bay." The abused piece of metal was twisted into a corkscrew. The elder Autobot hunched his shoulders, looking even more uncomfortable, if that was possible. "I still really can't fathom what happened next. One astrosecond we were chatting about the upcoming mission, and the next we were in a maintenance shed. Alone. Together."

Hot Rod ducked his head. Optimus Prime did not have to elaborate any further – it was painfully obvious how his creation had come about.

"Afterward, things continued as if nothing had happened. I saw Phantasma and the members of her team off with nothing more than a salute and a few words of encouragement." He finally dropped the mangled piece of metal and fixed the young bot with a piercing gaze. "Roddy, she never told me that she was with spark. If she had, I would have recalled her to Cybertron immediately. I suppose that is exactly why she kept your creation a secret. She loved her work, and she was a very independent femme. From what I've heard, she handled parenthood very well."

The Autobot commander squared his shoulders and straightened up, adopting a more formal pose. "Do you have any questions I can answer?"

"Did you tell Alita?" The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He clapped a hand over his vocal unit in horror. "I'm sorry! You – you really don't have to answer that. It's none of my business."

"It's okay," Optimus said with a sigh. "I can understand your curiosity. Yes, I did tell Alita, Primus rest her soul. And, miracle of miracles, she forgave me. I don't know how I ever came to deserve her." His optics took on a wistful, faraway look.

Hot Rod shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He never should have mentioned Prime's deceased lifemate. It was an understandably painful topic. He clasped his hands together, trying to think of a way to improve the situation. "So, uh, if you're my dad, um, aren't we supposed to do father-and-son things together?"

Optimus rubbed the back of his head. "Hm, that's not a bad idea. I can't say that I have a clear idea of what such things would be. I can't think of the last 'natural' spark creation in Cybertronian history, so I don't have any other fathers to use as a benchmark. I suppose we'll just have to figure things out as we go along." With a purposeful air, he strode back around his desk and sat down, flipping through an electronic scheduler. "Ah, yes. I have a ticket to see Hvala, the famous Cybertronian opera star, tomorrow. I suppose I could get another ticket without any trouble. Does that sound acceptable to you?"

'Primus, he sounds so formal,' Hot Rod thought to himself with an inward grimace. 'And he wants to take me to the *opera*?' "Uh, okaaay…" he said slowly. 'Oh, what the slag, why not give it a try? It won't kill me.' "It's a date."

Prime looked up, his optics twinkling. "A date, then. Meet me here at nineteen-hundred hours tomorrow, and we'll leave from here."

"Okay, see you then," Hot Rod nodded, rising and saluting his superior officer. Optimus nodded and returned the salute.

Hot Rod shook his head as he left the office, feeling a strange sense of unease settling down on him. 'Dear Cybertron, *what* have I gotten myself into?'


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

"Congrats, Roddy!" A large green hand came down, clapping Roddy on the shoulder. Roddy was propelled forward, nearly choking on the Energon he was trying to ingest.

"We heard the news," Arcee said in her usual soft, soothing tone. She pulled out a chair and sat down across from the beleaguered young bot. Springer followed suit, straddling the chair backward. The rec center was a bustling hive of activity, with many Autobots coming and going, looking for a chance to relax off-duty. "You must be so pleased!"

"What's so great about it?" he grumbled, clutching his can of liquid Energon. He scowled as another group of Autobots waved at him. "Suddenly everyone thinks they're my best buddy. I don't even know half of them."

"What's eating you?" Springer asked, direct, as usual. "If I found out that Op was my dad, I'd be thrilled. He's pretty much a father figure to us all anyway."

"I dunno," Hot Rod sighed, sloshing his drink in his hand. "It's just so weird - I've been wondering ever since I can remember who my father could be, and now I find out it's the guy I've been in awe of ever since I was old enough to hold a blaster. It's like I stepped into the Twilight Zone, or even worse, a Star Wars film. Now I know how that Skywalker kid felt." He shuddered. "Ever since Optimus came back and I surrendered leadership, I've wanted my life to be as uncomplicated as possible. I just don't know how to handle this."

"I understand," Arcee nodded sympathetically. "You think that since Optimus is your progenitor that everyone will expect you to take after him."

"Exactly," Roddy grumbled. "Now that I'm finally free to be Hot Rod again, everyone is going to expect me to be some mini-Optimus all over again. I just can't escape his shadow." He looked glumly at his friends, the two robots that tried to stick by him through it all.

"Man, that's a real bummer." Springer shook his head. "Still, maybe it won't be all bad. Maybe Optimus will give you some kind of privileges."

"Please," Roddy snorted. "He doesn't make compromises for anyone! I've known Alita and Magnus to make a misstep every now and then, and he didn't let them slide. He prides himself on being fair but firm. Believe me, I won't even be able to play music too loud and get away with it."

"Don't worry, Roddy. It'll all work out for the best, you'll see." Arcee patted his hand soothingly.

"I'm sure Optimus wouldn't want you to change who you are," Springer said encouragingly. "He's new at this too, you know. I'm sure he'll be a great dad once he gets the knack of it."

"I sure hope so," Roddy sighed. "I just hope I can get used to being the son of the greatest Autobot legend that ever lived."

"What's it like being a father?"

Spike's eyes narrowed slightly in concentration, chewing his lip as he pondered the question. "It's hard to describe," he said slowly, shifting position on the edge of the Autobot leader's desk. "When Danny was first born, I felt a lot of things. Pride. Nervousness. I didn't know if I could be the father he needed."

Optimus nodded. That was one thing that he was having trouble with. "How did you manage to get over your fears?"

"I just did the best I could. I tried to raise Danny to be a good boy. And so far, so good."

"What does a father do, exactly?" Optimus wondered. "There aren't any Autobot fathers around that I know of, so I don't really have a point of reference. Alpha Trion was always like a father to me. Perhaps I can follow his example."

"I didn't know that Transformers could procreate," Spike said, a note of surprise in his voice. "I thought that you were all created assembly-line style with sparks from Vector Sigma."

Optimus looked down, fingering another paper fastener. "That's usually how it's done," he said, an 'I-don't-want-to-discuss-this' tone in his voice. "This was just a, well, an exception."

"I see," Spike replied tactfully. His many years as ambassador to Cybertron had trained him to work around sensitive issues. 'I can always ask Perceptor, although with him I may get more information than I'm asking for.'

"Spike," the red, white and blue Autobot said gently, "what does a father do, exactly? I know about the feedings and diapers that human children require, but what is expected of me, exactly? What do I need to do to be a good father?"

"That's a good question." Spike steepled his hands together and leaned forward. "Of course, Transformers are very different from humans, but from my observations, your emotional needs are basically the same. You have to discipline him when he misbehaves, provide a good example to him, support his accomplishments, and attend whatever functions he's involved in. And, above all, you must be there for him no matter what. You must offer him unconditional love."

Prime stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Thank you for your help, Spike. You have given me much to think about."

"Glad to be of service." Spike grinned as he climbed nimbly on to the Autobot leader's hand and was lowered to the floor. "Good luck! Somehow I think you're going to need it."


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

"This is crazy, this is crazy!" the flame-colored Autobot muttered to himself, laying a flat palm against the gunmetal-grey door. He looked over his shoulder at the corridor that he had followed, providing a welcome avenue of escape. He traced the Autobot symbol stamped on the door, then the image of the Matrix below. No other markings were necessary – every Autobot knew this to be the office of the Autobot leader.

'I could just turn around and leave. Tell Optimus that I'm sick, or that something came up.' He straightened up, bracing himself. 'No. I can't run away from this. I need to face this head-on. Who knows? Maybe I'll develop some bizarre liking for the opera.' He pressed the door chime. 'I hope we can find something to talk about. Primus, what can I say to the greatest Autobot warrior? I can't blather on about the skateboarding that Danny is trying to teach me! I'll be afraid to even open my mouth." He was about to turn away when the door suddenly slid open. From within, he could see Optimus look up from his desk and nod a greeting.

"Please come in." Optimus gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. "I'll only be a moment. I just need to send off a few messages and I'll be all set." He typed a few brisk commands at his console, then deactivated the display and put the access console into a security lockout until he returned.

He looked up. "Are you ready?" Hot Rod nodded. "Good. Then let's go."

Hot Rod followed the large Autobot leader to the shuttle bay where the express shuttle to Cybertron ran hourly. He was acutely aware of the glances and whispers that their presence caused. It seemed that gossip traveled faster than the speed of light amongst the Autobots. Primus, didn't they have anything better to talk about than his parentage? He scowled inwardly.

"Have you ever been to the opera before?"

"Huh?" The question snapped Hot Rod out of his reverie. He mentally berated himself. 'You're going out on an excursion with your hero, and all you can say is *huh*?' "Um, no, actually. I've never been to the opera before. What's it like?"

Optimus looked kindly down at his 'new' progeny. "It depends on the person. If you're open to it, it can be a very spiritual experience. Ah, here we go. Right on time." The shuttle glided neatly into the docking bay and settled down. Crowds of Autobots and a smattering of other species spilled out. After the shuttle had emptied, they boarded. Seeing no available seats, they grabbed two dangling straps and braced themselves as the shuttle slowly rose and sailed out of the docking bay.

"Do you go to the opera often?" 'Now that sounded stupid,' Roddy chided himself mentally.

"Only occasionally," Optimus replied. "Of course, I have more opportunity now than I did before we returned to Cybertron. I have viewed Earthen operas, but they were never the same. There's just something special about listening to an opera in Cybertronian that can't compare."

Hot Rod's optics flashed in surprise as a large portion of the shuttle riders rose and offered their seats to the Autobot leader and his companion. Optimus shook his head politely. It never failed to amaze Hot Rod, who had been Prime himself not too long ago, how much the Autobot troops venerated those who led. To be frank, it creeped him out. They had treated him more like a god than a person. He had been terrified, not only of leading, but of letting down those who depended on him. It had been a very lonely time, and he was glad it was behind him.

The shuttle passengers barely turned an optic sensor as the warp gate beyond Pluto opened in a fiery light, opening a hyperspace corridor to Cybertron. Within mere moments, it was over, and the shuttle glided serenely towards the docking bay of the metal planet. Hot Rod stole a glance at his companion for the evening. He could swear that Optimus wore a slight smile. The elder Autobot, despite his affection for Earth, had no doubt been missing his home world.

"Well, here we are!" Roddy said cheerfully, trying to sound upbeat instead of nervous. "Which way?"

"It's just a few klicks away now," Optimus replied. The two made small talk as they walked the short distance. Hot Rod's gaze darted around, trying to take in the architecture, as they headed into the civic center. This building had been reconstructed a short time ago, but the architecture had been built to mimic the old center. The design was stately and beautiful all at once.

Optimus guided his son up the spiral staircase to their seats. "I managed to secure a box just for us. We should have a terrific view, and the sound carries very well." He handed Roddy a program. "Tonight's performance is about Ova, a young provincial femmebot whose lifemate has left to explore the galaxy. It's a classic story."

Hot Rod settled into his seat, craning his neck, taking in the groups of robots sitting below. It was kind of cool to be sitting up in the box seats. He could tell why Optimus liked it up here - it was isolated enough so that they could enjoy the show without anyone talking or moving about.

The lights dimmed as the curtain rose. Optimus straightened in his seat and focused his full attention on the stage. Roddy did likewise, curious about what was going to happen. A polished, refined-looking femme stepped forward and held out her hands imploringly. A haunting song began to flow forth from her vocal chips.

At first, Hot Rod let himself become lost in the melody. 'It really is beautiful!' he thought to himself. But after a few astrominutes, he began to fidget a bit. 'Is this all there is to it? Where are the other actors? Isn't there going to be any cool explosions or rock music?' Just watching some femme bellowing away on the stage was getting a little boring. He had a rather short attention span, and he hated sitting still.

The young robot began shifting around in his seat, just trying to stay awake. "Is something wrong with your seat?" Optimus whispered to him.

"Uh, no," Roddy stammered. "My leg servos were starting to fall asleep. Just trying to wake them up."

Optimus nodded and turned his piercing gaze away. Roddy breathed a sigh – even without meaning to, those optics could cut right through him. He desperately wanted to please his father (such a strange word to describe someone that he had always admired from a distance), but opera just wasn't his thing. On its own volition, his head began to nod towards his chest. He had recharged poorly the night before, nervous with anticipation. Now it was catching up to him, and the opera was only serving as a lullaby, lulling him into a light recharge.

It seemed like only moments later that something nudged his shoulder. "Wake up, Hot Rod," a deep voice spoke.

Hot Rod lifted his head and met a gaze that seemed to pin him to his seat. "I j-just wanted to rest my optics for a second…" he stammered nervously.

The steely blue gaze wouldn't let him look away. "The opera is over, Hot Rod. You've been out for over an Earth hour."

"Oh," he said weakly. What else could he say?

Optimus stood and gestured for the smaller robot to follow. They walked in silence back to the shuttle bay. Hot Rod hung back slightly, staring at the rigid back of the red and blue Autobot. Optimus did not look back once or slow down for him. 'Oh no, I've really done it this time,' he thought with a sinking feeling. 'He really seems upset with me.' It was only a few astroseconds until the shuttle appeared, but the time seemed to stretch into an eternity. They boarded the shuttle, this time finding seats, and soon the shuttle took off, all amidst stony silence.

"You should have told me you didn't want to go."

The words were spoken so softly that Hot Rod was barely sure he had heard them. Optimus did not look at him, staring fixedly outside the window at the stars that streaked by.

Hot Rod looked down at his hands clenched nervously in his lap. "I'm so sorry, Optimus – uh, sir," he choked out. He felt very awkward about using the elder Prime's first name – it felt almost blasphemous. Optimus finally turned to face his son, and Roddy's fuel pump sank. He squirmed, pinned once more under that powerful stare. "I really wanted to give it a chance. I guess it's really not for me." He finally tore his gaze away and returned to staring at his hands. He whispered sadly, "I just wanted to make you happy. I'm sorry I let you down."

Prime's optics softened a bit. "Hot Rod, you didn't let me down. If anything, I let you down. I should have considered your tastes when I planned this outing. If we're going to make this father-son thing work, we need to be honest with each other. I don't want you to be afraid of me."

'Easy for you to say,' the youth thought grimly, now staring at his feet. Optimus Prime was only the most intimidating Autobot he knew. He had spent his entire life training to be a warrior worthy of the Autobot name, and the past few years trying desperately to follow in the deceased leader's very large footsteps.

Roddy felt a huge wave of relief as the shuttle landed and their conversation was cut off. He busied himself with making his way out of the shuttle. The two paused awkwardly as they prepared to part ways.

"Look," Optimus said, looking a bit ill-at-ease, "I'm booked solid for the next few days with meetings and strategy sessions, but I'd like to give this a try again. Would you like to meet on Friday? You can choose where we go this time." Many of the Earthbound Autobots had adopted the Terran time schedule. It had become second nature to Hot Rod, who had been stationed on Earth since Metroplex's creation.

"Sure!" Hot Rod said a bit too eagerly, very surprised that he was getting a second chance. "Sounds great to me. See you then."

"Until then," Optimus nodded. They saluted each other and parted ways, each already lost in thought about that night's happenings.


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

"WHOOOOEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Hot Rod whooped at the top of his voice chip as he zoomed around the perimeter of Autobot City in vehicle mode. People screamed and rushed to get out of his way. Hot on his heels were several fellow juvenile delinquents that he had fallen in with once more.

"Oh YEAH! This is more like it!" he hollered, just glad to be alive. Racing always made him feel good. He felt all of his problems drain away. Right now, he wasn't the former Autobot leader, the Chosen One, heir to the Matrix, or son of the almighty Optimus Prime. He was just Hot Rod, a bright orange streak, and that was how he liked it. He could just shut out all the thoughts that raced around his head and drive.

"What the? HOT ROD!" an all-too-familiar voice yelled. He tried to put on his brakes, but it was too late. He burned large streaks of rubber into the pavement, then transformed and flung his arms out, trying to slow his momentum. He collided with someone with a loud clang, and the two fell down in a tangle of metallic limbs.

"Whoa, sorry about that!" Hot Rod rubbed a bruised arm sheepishly. "Good thing you were there to catch me…." His voice faded out as he gaped in horror at a steaming mad Optimus Prime knocked flat on the ground. He could see several visible dents in his leader's exostructure, and a few bright orange and yellow paint streaks etched on the formerly red chestplate.

"Uh-oh!" he heard his so-called 'friends' exclaim as they transformed and sped away before they too got the reaming of their lives.

"Oh, slag!" Hot Rod cried, then clapped a hand over his mouth. Swearing wasn't exactly the best way to make this situation better. Optimus didn't openly scold those that swore, but his disapproving glances always got the message across. As the Autobot leader, he tried to set an example to others, and it was rare indeed that a rude word crossed his lip components. He had once stopped a battle cold with an inadvertent curse – even the Decepticons were shocked that he had sworn.

Hot Rod desperately thrust out his hand to help his fallen leader to his feet. He was reminded, quite unpleasantly, of the scene several years ago when his interference in Prime's battle with Megatron had cost the Autobot leader his life. Optimus pointedly ignored the proffered hand and pushed himself up on his own. "Hot Rod," he growled, rubbing at the scratches in his finish, "you have a lot of explaining to do."

Hot Rod scuffed a foot against the concrete, unable to meet his father's eyes. "I'm sorry, Prime," he sighed, wondering how he always allowed himself to get in these situations. It always seemed like a good idea at the time…. "I just wanted to burn off a little steam, you know?"

"That's still no excuse," the elder Autobot scolded. "You need to take your youthful exuberance somewhere else, where you won't risk harming others. What if you had hit a human? In one moment, you would have ruined all of the work we've both done in winning over the human race. It's the responsibility of every Autobot to safeguard this planet and its inhabitants"

Roddy clenched his fists, feeling his frustration mount once more. He fought it down, stomping on it until he felt in control of himself again. He knew that an outburst would only make things worse. 'To the pit with responsibility!' he thought angrily. Aloud he said, "Okay, I'll try to take my racing elsewhere. Are you satisfied?"

Prime put his hands on his hips and seemed to scowl under his battle mask. He was obviously not satisfied, but decided to drop the matter for now. "Fine. I'll take you at your word. If you are caught racing on the base again, you will be put on suspension. Now go get yourself cleaned up," he gestured to Roddy's new collection of dents and scrapes of Prime's own red paint on the adolescent's chassis, "and I'll have to do the same." Hot Rod tried not to look at the damage he'd inadvertently inflicted on the normally immaculate Autobot.

He breathed a sigh as Optimus stalked back into Metroplex. 'Now how am I supposed to face him on Friday?'


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Hot Rod slapped a few high-fives and shouted a few words of farewell as he left his target-practice class. He was feeling a lot better now that he had put the racing incident behind him. He had done very well in class today – being Galvatron's prime target, pun intended, had honed his skills.

A figure stepped out from the doorway and stopped him. "Whoa, Prime!" he exclaimed. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

Optimus nodded a greeting. "I checked your schedule – finding you was easy. I wanted to know if you had come up with any plans for tonight."

"Uh, sorry, no." Hot Rod rubbed his neck in embarrassment. "I couldn't think of anything that I thought you'd enjoy."

"Well, what do you usually do on a Friday night?"

"I go clubbing with Arcee, Springer, and a few other buds. We've been trying to drag Magnus along, but he's a regular stick in the mud. Not his speed anyway. I don't really think you'd enjoy it either."

"I may surprise you yet," Optimus replied, a smug note in his voice. "I used to go clubbing with Alita before the war started. We even went a few times afterward, when we found the time to slip away." His gaze grew sad and faraway at the mention of her name. "The place was called Danceatron. I still can't believe that Megatron had the gall to create a club with that name on Earth to brainwash humans."

'Optimus, clubbing? No way!' Hot Rod shook his head. The mental image just didn't jibe. "The Danceatron on Cybertron still exists, actually, but it's a little slow for my tastes. I usually go to Club Cyber."

Optimus spread his hands. "I'm up for whatever you are. Want to give it a try?"

Hot Rod's face split in an enormous grin. This should be something to see! "Sure! See you at twenty-one-hundred hours. The place really starts hopping after then."

"I'll see you then, at the shuttle bay." The two saluted and parted ways, Hot Rod still shaking his head in disbelief. Just wait until he told everyone!

They met at the shuttle bay at the appointed time. Hot Rod couldn't sit still during the short ride and tapped his foot to an internal beat. He hadn't looked forward to something so much in a long time. Club Cyber was da bomb! Almost as good as racing to clear his mind. He glanced sideways at Optimus, who watched his antics with amusement. He just hoped that the Autobot leader wouldn't cramp his style.

"So, Hot Rod," Optimus said, trying to be conversational, "what have you been doing with yourself lately? Besides running me over, that is."

"Sorry about that," the young 'bot said ruefully. "Well, I've been learning how to rappel down the side of Metroplex, and some of the other junior recruits are going to take me space surfing. It's supposed to be really cool. I can't wait!"

Prime's demeanor became a bit disapproving. "Roddy, do you really know what you're getting into? Space surfing can be very dangerous. You could underestimate the gravitational pull of a planet, or worse, get stuck in the pull of a black hole. I'm guessing that these junior recruits you referred to aren't much more experienced than you. You really need a pro if you're going to try it."

Roddy bit back a scowl. He noticed that his father almost never called him Roddy, and his doing so now seemed to be patronizing. Couldn't he stop being such an overbearing party pooper just once? "I'm a grown 'bot. I can look after myself. Let me worry about it."

"Talk to Jazz if you don't believe me," Optimus argued, becoming exasperated. "He nearly got crushed while space surfing when a black hole snared him. If he hadn't managed to sink a grappling hook into his nearby shuttle, he would have been flattened beyond recognition, then ripped to pieces. If Jazz gave up the sport, it must be very dangerous."

"Fine, I'll speak to him later," Hot Rod grumbled. He knew deep down that Prime was right, but he just didn't want to admit it. He wanted to go about his carefree existence, not worrying about any risks. Hadn't he done enough worrying as the Prime already?

"Oh, goody, we're here!" he cheered as the shuttle landed. Optimus breathed a sigh and followed the bouncing adolescent to a blazing neon beacon that read "Club Cyber". His optics flickered slightly as he surveyed the joint. The crowd parted, letting them enter first, but the red Autobot scarcely noticed.

"Isn't it something!" Roddy cried as they stepped inside.

"It's definitely something," Optimus agreed with far less enthusiasm. This was nothing like his beloved Danceatron. His old haunt had gotten a bit raucous at times, but it at least bore some resemblance of civility. A bit of drinking and wild dancing was to be expected, but this… he had no idea how to deal with this!

Optimus Prime looked around, slack-jawed, at the scene that greeted his optic sensors. As far as he could see, bodies gyrated, pressed together like sardines. He looked away hastily as he saw two robots doing something inconceivable. He had never thought about doing such a thing with Alita, even in private! What was this place, anyway?

Roddy headed straight for the bar like a seasoned pro, elbowing the dancers out of his way as he went. Optimus followed in his wake, as if in a trance. Everywhere he looked, he saw something that shocked his senses. The music was far too loud, the strobe lights hurt his optics, the dancers pressed oppressively close, and the air itself reeked of old fuel and spilt high-grade energon. He had a strong suspicion that some of that energon had been regurgitated.

"Here ya go!" Roddy yelled, thrusting a large container of high-grade energon at him. The lad had already polished off half of his own. "Good stuff!" The flame-colored Autobot bobbed his head to the beat as he drained his glass, then turned to get another one, shoving aside a mech that had passed out on the barstool.

Optimus bobbed his head to the beat as he sipped his beverage, feeling a slight buzz steal over him. At least the buzz made the music tolerable. He shifted uncomfortably, leaning against the bar, feeling the burning optics of the curious patrons focused on him. Primus, how he hated being stared at! He was used to being the center of attention when it came to commanding the Autobots, but here he felt out of place, and the stares were hardly friendly. He realized with a sick feeling that they thought he had come to bust them, or something equally unpleasant. Once they saw him with a drink in his hands they began to whisper to each other, and stare some more. He ducked his head, studying the energon-sticky floor. This really had been a mistake.

"Hey, Op!" a voice bellowed in his audial sensor. He turned to see Hot Rod grinning with a voluptuous femme on his arm. "I'm going to dance, okay?"

"Sure, fine!" Optimus yelled back, gesturing toward the dance floor. 'I think I'll just stay here and get drunk. Then maybe this place will become bearable,' he thought glumly. He turned to order another drink, feeling the stares of the clubgoers burning holes in his back. Primus, why wouldn't they leave him alone? He felt a small spark of anger. It wasn't as if he was performing some perverted act, like a growing percentage of those on the dance floor. He just wanted a drink, that was all. He had always tried to set a good example for his troops, but he wasn't a saint! Not that anyone cared – to them he was a glorified god. Wasn't he allowed to have a bit of fun and relax? Nobody was staring at Hot Rod, that was for sure. This sort of behavior was expected of him.

Optimus focused his attention on his drink, polishing it off in record time. He set the container down on the bar a bit unsteadily and wondered whether it was wise to order another. He had never been a big drinker, and despite his size, he was already feeling the effects of the alcoholic beverages. He was rapidly crossing the line between buzzed and flat-out drunk. 'No need to totally debase myself,' he thought with a bit of effort. 'I really don't think I can handle another drink.'

"Hi there," a feminine voice purred in his audial. He turned in surprise to see a lovely purple femme with ample curves eyeing him. He was struck dumb for a moment – he hadn't even been approached by a femme outside of his job since his resurrection.

"Uh, hello," he said slowly, making sure that he spoke clearly.

"Haven't seen you here before," the femme said, pressing closer, taking his arm. Optimus stiffened and strongly resisted the urge to pull away. He hated being touched, especially by someone he didn't know. "I would have noticed such a handsome specimen for sure. My name's Lilac."

'Fitting name,' the Autobot leader observed. She actually had the coloring of the tiny Earthen flower. "My name is Optimus Prime," he told her.

She threw her head back and laughed, a little longer than necessary. 'Yep, she's sauced too,' Optimus observed. "I know who you are, silly!" she giggled. "Everyone does. Never thought I'd see you in this place though. To be honest, I always thought you were a bit too stuffy. But I can see I was wrong." She eyed him with a hungry look that made the mech distinctly uncomfortable. "Wanna dance?" She batted her optics at him flirtatiously.

"Erm, no, thank you," the Autobot leader declined politely. "I'm not a good dancer under normal circumstances, and I'm afraid I'd be quite uncoordinated after the drinks that I've had. I wouldn't want to stomp all over your feet."

Lilac winked at him. "Oh, we don't have to dance really. Just look at that crowd – how many of them are actually dancing out there? There are better things to do."

Optimus cringed and shrank away as she began to caress his chestplate. This was definitely more than he had bargained for. He couldn't stomach the thought of being with another femme – the loss of Alita was still too fresh for him. Besides, he was decidedly *not* attracted to this Lilac. He pushed her away, gently but firmly. "I have got to get out of here!" he groaned.

His optics scanned the tightly packed gyrating crowd for a flame-colored frame. He finally spotted his companion in the hoard, pressed tightly against the femme that he had snared. He appeared to be doing something to her chassis…. Oh, no, he wasn't! He couldn't be – in front of all those people! That was the absolute last straw!

Optimus stormed over to Hot Rod and grabbed his arm roughly. "I've had enough of this place!" he growled. "We are leaving, right now!"

Hot Rod pulled away and massaged his dented arm. "What is your damage?" he hissed. He swayed a bit, and Optimus realized that the young robot was seriously drunk. "Just because you're a stick in the mud doesn't mean that you have to spoil my fun. Get lost!"

Optimus grabbed his son again, even rougher than before. "Listen, Roddy," he snarled, not bothering to hide his irritation. "You are making a fool of yourself! You're drunk and cavorting with some femme that you've never even met before! See, people are staring!" He gestured to the crowd that was indeed beginning to stare.

"They're staring at *you*, you old fool!" Roddy yelled in his face. "I'm not behaving any differently than anyone else here. You're the one that sticks out! You're ruining everyone's fun! Go and take your party pooper mentality somewhere else and leave me out of it! I don't tell you how to live your life or how to have fun, so don't tell me!"

"Fine then!" Optimus yelled right back, throwing Hot Rod's arm back at him. "You just go ahead and make a spectacle of yourself. You'll come crawling back to the base tomorrow, reeking horribly, with a massive hangover and a pounding head. You'll only be getting what you deserve. Well, I'm not staying around this hellhole any longer. At least I have some dignity! Goodbye, Roddy – you can find your own way home." He spun on his heel, fighting his way through the crowd until they parted before him and let him out into the fresh air. He drew big gulps of it into his auxiliary air intakes, cooling his overheated system.

The large Autobot clutched his pounding head and rubbed his optics wearily. Gods, what a terrible night. He would likely have a headache and hangover of his own tomorrow. Whatever had possessed him to want to go there? What made Roddy want to go there, anyway? Maybe he and Hot Rod were incompatible after all. Maybe all those millions of years apart had driven a wedge between them that couldn't be breached. Optimus breathed a great sigh and set off towards the shuttle bay. He really wasn't cut out for this father bit. Maybe he should just stop trying.


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

The gossip mill was working overtime at both Metroplex and Cybertron. Word of the previous night's events spread like wildfire, whispered from one breathless Autobot to another. And the tale grew each time it was told – Optimus had hit Hot Rod; Optimus had been spotted leaving the club with three women; Hot Rod had pulled a gun on Optimus; Optimus had busted the joint and shut it down for good. Nobody was really sure what had happened that night, but they sure loved to talk about it!

One thing was for sure – Optimus had come back in a foul mood, which had only gotten worse the following day. He had awoken with a pounding head and a body that felt like it was full of cement. He had called in late to try to recover, something that definitely attracted attention, a rarity in itself. When he finally appeared, the whispers grew even stronger. Optimus looked like he had been through a wringer. He had dark smudges under his optic sensors, and his paint job was dull, since he had skipped his usual waxing. Everyone scrambled to get out of his way, for he growled and barked orders irritably at everyone he saw. The only thing that seemed to cheer him up was the sight of Hot Rod, who was in even worse shape. The young Autobot had dragged himself in at the crack of dawn and was late to roll call. Optimus had made it a point to show up in person and lead the day's drill. The punishment for tardiness was worse than usual, of course. Two hundred pushups, and he made the culprits count each one out loud. And if they did one sloppily or improperly, they had to start all over again. The troops were amazed- Ultra Magnus was a real stickler for being on time and following the rules, but even on his worse day he was never this bad. By the end of the drill, Hot Rod was barely able to stand upright.

After nearly five astrominutes of standing outside the door of the Autobot leader's office, Ultra Magnus finally got the courage to press the buzzer. There was a moment of stifling silence, then the door opened and the occupant said curtly, "Come in." Ultra Magnus entered with trepidation, and the door closed soundlessly behind him, shutting him in.

Optimus fixed his old friend with a cold stare. "Well, what is it?" he asked crossly. "I'm very busy, so come out with it. I don't have all day."

Magnus flinched visibly. "I just wanted to know how you were doing," he said softly, trying to soothe Prime's simmering anger. Optimus was in rare form today. Sure, he got upset or angry about things, but he rarely took it out on his troops. And the way he had badgered Hot Rod at drill practice – it was nothing short of bizarre!

Optimus sighed and propped his chin up on his hand. "Not so good. That obvious, huh?"

"I think that even the Decepticons know it," Magnus said jokingly. The joke seemed to lift his friend's spirits, and he felt encouraged. "Optimus, what happened between you and Hot Rod last night? I know you were supposed to go with him to a club – it was all he could talk about. I'd never let him drag me to one of those infernal places. Was it really that bad?"

"Worse," Optimus groaned. "It wasn't at all what I expected. I suppose it's my own fault for agreeing to it. But you should have seen him, Magnus! He was just out of control, doing the most disgusting things – I just couldn't stand to be part of it any more. So we got into a fight."

Magnus nodded, wisely deciding not to tell Optimus about the wild rumors that were circulating. "I know from Spike that parenting isn't always easy. Though he has awhile until Danny starts frequenting the local clubs."

Optimus chuckled at the thought of Spike dragging his son out of a place like Club Cyber. His mood had lightened considerably since Magnus had shown up. "I just don't know what to think, Magnus. I want to make sure that he grows up to be a good Autobot, but he just won't listen to me. I suppose I should let him find out for himself, but I'd hate for him to get hurt in the process. Sometimes I wonder how he managed to lead the Autobots so well when he just acts like a goof."

Magnus struggled very hard to hide a smile, with little success. "I know a certain Autobot leader who got into more than his fair share of trouble when he was young."

"But that's different-!"

"How so?" Magnus pressed him. "You were just a silly young 'bot – Primus, we all were – and you had to grow up fast when Alpha Trion made you the Autobot leader. Roddy found himself in the same situation, and believe me, he grew up very fast. He may seem to do nothing but goof off and get into trouble in search of the next thrill, but he's more mature than you know. Maybe more than any of us know."

Optimus thought hard about Magnus' words. Perhaps he really was being too hard on Hot Rod. But if the 'bot was really as mature as Magnus claimed, why did he insist on doing such foolish things? It just didn't make sense to him.

"So are you feeling better, or do I have to remove my armor and do a belly dance for you?" Magnus asked jovially. Few people ever suspected that the City Commander had a humorous strut in his whole body, but those that knew him well understood that he had a lighter side in there somewhere.

Optimus laughed out loud, convincing Magnus that his foul mood had lifted. "I don't know, Mags," he teased. "I may need some more encouragement. Why don't you get started while I set up the video camera?"

Magnus punched his buddy lightly on the shoulder. "In your dreams! I've got to go check over Kup's security report on Metroplex. I'll see you around, okay?"

"Okay," Optimus nodded. The two commanders saluted each other. "Just keep your armor on, okay?"

"I'll try," Magnus said, deadpan.

Optimus waved his friend out of his office with another laugh. Perhaps he had given up too soon. Maybe this parenting thing was worth another shot after all.


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Optimus walked the halls back to his quarters at twenty-one-hundred hours. The lights of Metroplex were dimmed due to the late hour, keeping with the Earth's rotation. Skeleton security crews saluted him, and he saluted back in reflex, barely registering them. Once again he had pulled a ridiculously long shift- sixteen hours at a stretch. And he'd have to return again at seven-hundred hours. None of the matters he was dealing with were actually that pressing. The heavy workload helped distract him, keep him from worrying about other issues in his life. He had decided to avoid Hot Rod for a few days and give both of them a chance to cool down. Nothing would be gained in a shouting match. One thing was for sure – Hot Rod had definitely inherited his father's stubborn streak.

And there were other matters that plagued at him. Some dark, sinister. Memories of being probed and violated by Quintesson tentacles, programming him to serve as a decoy to lead his beloved Autobots to their doom. Some other memories were far more pleasant, so much so that it hurt to think of them. The merry laugh of a femme that sounded like tinkling bells, a smile that lit up his whole world, a mere touch that could lift any burden. And there was more – a bright yet soft light, a light that had cradled him and made him feel at ease – a feeling that he would never have again. It seemed that the only way to keep the images at bay was to dive headlong into the ever-mounting stack of paperwork. But even that was getting to him of late. There were so many reports that needed to be read, proposals that needed to be approved, he could barely keep track of it all. No sooner would he finish with one stack than another two would come his way. When would it all end? Couldn't he even get a night's peaceful recharge without thinking of the mountains of work that awaited him? For the love of Primus, he was only one person.

He shook his head, trying to force such thoughts out of his mind. If he started worrying, he'd be up all night and exhaust himself, just in time to get up for work again. A few posted sentries noticed Prime's mannerisms and dismissed them with a mental shrug. Optimus had been doing such things ever since his revival. He was a 'bot with a lot on his mind, and if he occasionally made a random gesture or muttered to himself, it was to be expected.

Prime passed by Metroplex's central control center and stopped short. Beneath the door, which was painted with the bold words "ACCESS RESTRICTED. AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY" there shone a light. Nobody should be in there at this time of night, unless there had been a malfunction, and in that case he or Magnus should have been informed. His ever-vigilant sense of danger tugged at him. He'd better check this out.

Quietly he slid the door open, slipping in and letting it whoosh closed behind him. He stole silently into the room, moving very quietly for such a large mechanism. A quiet scuffling reached his audials, and he stiffened slightly, all of his senses on alert. There *was* somebody here after all!

The Autobot leader reached a massive block of electronic circuitry and metal that stretched halfway to the ceiling. He peered around it and froze in shock. On the other side stood Hot Rod kissing a female he had never seen before. It wasn't even the same femme from the club! Prime's blue hand curled into a mighty fist. When would that foolhardy boy ever learn to follow the rules? This was a highly restricted area – he had no business here, and even less bringing in some femmebot! All of Roddy's earlier behavior could be brushed off as acting out, but this – this was overstepping the bounds of his rank and position!

"Hold it right there!" Optimus Prime bellowed, stepping out from behind cover. "Both of you are in very big trouble! You have five astroseconds to explain yourself before I have the both of you thrown into the brig!" It was a long shot, but he wanted to impress on Hot Rod the gravity of the situation, and he was prepared to back up his threat with action if necessary.

"Aw, Optimus!" Hot Rod groaned. "We weren't hurting anything in here, honest. Forest here just wanted to get a look at Metroplex's central control center. She thinks it's real neat! You don't think we'd be stupid enough to touch anything, do you?"

"You are capable of anything, Roddy," Optimus said flatly, all the while studying the mysterious femme by the boy's side. There was something familiar about that femme, so eerily familiar that it tugged at his memory circuits. Unbidden, a flash of memory came to him – a dark cell, his energon dripping down to pool on the floor, a sadistic smile as a lithe figure bent over him, instruments of torture at the ready…. Almost before the flash had passed, he jumped forward and grabbed the female in a crushing grip. "Merciless!" he yelled. Activating his comm. link, he called out, "Security to level 24, section alpha, code red! Security breach!"

"Optimus!" Hot Rod cried, gaping at the scene. He was too taken aback to act. "Let her go! If you're going to yell at anyone, yell at me! I was the one that let her in. The computer still accepted my old access code. I swear she had nothing to do with this!"

Shaking with anger and remembered pain, Optimus reached for the Autobot brand on the female's green chassis and ripped it away. Beneath stood a violet purple Decepticon symbol, surrounded by a midnight-black base coat, the femme's true paint job. "I knew it!" he growled. "You were the one that tortured me for information! I'd never forget that face."

The femme's face morphed from sweet innocence to savage glee, mirroring the grin that she had worn when she had tortured the mighty Autobot leader. "The one and only, fool! It was so pathetically easy to get past your defenses and sucker this dork into bringing me in here. You're all such weaklings!"

The night security crew ran in, taking in the situation in a heartbeat. They briskly cuffed the violently struggling and cursing femme and led her away. Optimus promised them that he'd have a full report on Kup's desk in the morning. "I'll be free soon enough!" the femme ranted as she was dragged away. "One day you'll be in my clutches again, Optimus Prime, and what fun we'll have!" Maniacal laughter trailed behind her as she disappeared from sight.

"Whoa," Hot Rod muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. That had been majorly heavy! He dated a lot, and he had never even considered that one of the females could be a Decepticon spy. "I just can't believe it! She seemed so sweet to me. I thought she just wanted to check out Metroplex's inner workings to see how he worked, you know? I guess I still have a lot to learn."

"Yes, you do," Optimus said crossly. "Roddy, why do you always pull these stunts that you know will land you in trouble? Are you doing it on purpose, or are you just not thinking? We had a major security breach because of your foolishness. Who knows what information Merciless has already gathered and transmitted? We have to be vigilant at all times."

"Look, I'm sorry, alright? I'm mortal. I make mistakes. You can't tell me you've never made a mistake in your life!" Hot Rod was quickly becoming aggravated. He knew that he had really messed up, but he felt bad about it and wanted to make amends. Wasn't that good enough?

"That's just not good enough. You've done this too often to be let off the hook with a warning. I'm placing you on suspended duty for the next week. Perhaps some time cleaning all of the weapons in the armory will teach you some discipline."

"I don't *need* discipline! What I need is for you to get off my back!" the adolescent growled, fists on hips. He had more than enough from his high-and-mighty father, and he wasn't going to take it anymore!

Optimus could not stop his own hands from curling into fists. "Ever since you turned back into Hot Rod, you've been worse than before, tearing about and wreaking havoc everywhere you go. It's time somebody straightened you out."

"Dammit, Optimus, I'm the Chosen One!" Prime's optics flickered in surprise, both at the curse and the informal use of his given name. Some Autobots were afraid to even use it to his face. "I can make my own decisions without your interference! Haven't you've done enough to ruin my life already? I don't know how often I prayed to Primus for your return after I inherited the Matrix, but I guess it's true what they say – "be careful what you wish for". I may have not been the leader that you were, but I was damn sure trying. And the minute you get back, you undo all the hard work I've done and set things up the old way. Face it, you're obsolete! You're stuck in a rut that you've been in ever since you landed on this planet! You wouldn't know a new idea if it bit you on the aft!" Hot Rod was trembling with anger. He couldn't stop the flow of words that surged from his central processor and tumbled out of his mouth component. "And now I find out you're my dad! Can't I ever get free of your shadow? Primus, how I wish that you weren't my father! And I wish you had never come back to life! WHY CAN'T YOU JUST STAY DEAD?"

Optimus gasped and flinched as if he had been physically struck by the harsh, hurtful words. He slowly rubbed his cheek, as if a blow had landed there. His blue optics were wide with shock and hurt. His vocal processor worked soundlessly, unable to make a sound. Hot Rod realized that he had something irrevocably cruel and wished with all of his might that he could take it back, but it was too late. The damage had been done.

Prime's gaze dropped to the floor. His shoulders slumped. Hot Rod had to strain the words that were spoken. "You're right, Roddy. About everything. I shouldn't have come back. I'm sorry I've been such a burden to you. You don't have to worry about me bothering you any more."

He turned and walked out the door, leaving Hot Rod gaping at him in horrified dismay. Why, oh why had he said those terrible things? He was frustrated and angry, sure, but that was no reason to tear his mentor to pieces! Everything had come to a head, and the words had come spilling out before he could stop them. He couldn't stop replaying Prime's expression in his mind – the shocked expression, the hurt look in his optics. Prime's dear son had done more damage to him than a missile ever could. Some Autobots thought that their leader was invulnerable, immune to both physical and emotional pain. That battle mask hid most of his expressions. He rarely laughed, never seemed to cry, scarcely made a sound when he was injured. Hot Rod had just proved how untrue that was. He promised to himself that he'd do his best to make it up to Optimus. If only he could have one more chance.


	10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Hot Rod sighed as he placed another clean weapon on the rack before him, reaching for another dirt- and oil-encrusted rifle. This was hardly a picnic, but it could be worse. He could have been assigned to the waste extraction units. He knew that he had been behaving irresponsibly since his surrender of leadership, but he tried not to analyze it too much. He was Hot Rod, right? He was supposed to get into trouble and act up, right? Trouble was, even Hot Rod didn't use to get into this much trouble in such a short time period. He had pulled the occasional practical joke or stupid stunt, but he had generally tried to toe the line. It was only recently that he felt the need to act out. But who was he fooling, really? Was it the fact that everyone expected him to act this way? Or was he trying to prove something to himself? He had been so busy asserting his Hot Rod personality that he hadn't stopped to think about what he was doing.

'I guess Optimus has a point,' he thought glumly. He had come damn close to insubordination a few times. And that just wasn't like Hot Rod at all. Sure, he was a bit of a wild card, but he stayed in line when it counted. But now it seems that he was determined to break the rules, to behave as outlandishly as he could. It was as if he had something to prove – maybe to himself, if nobody else. He wanted to believe with all of his spark that he didn't miss the Matrix, that it didn't feel like there was a gaping hole inside of him. It seemed to call to him in his dreams, whispering words of destiny that, try as he might, he could not escape.

"Ultra Magnus to Hot Rod." His comm. line crackled to life.

"Hot Rod here," he replied. "What's up, Magnus?"

Magnus' voice sounded even more sober than usual. "Please come see me in my office ASAP. There's something that we need to discuss."

Hot Rod entered the City Commander's office with some trepidation. Had he heard about last night's events and decided to hash them over himself? He sat in the proffered seat, bracing himself for a lecture.

Ultra Magnus folded his hands atop the desk and fixed his friend with a worried gaze. "Hot Rod, did something happen between you and Optimus last night? I mean, besides the business with the intruder?"

Hot Rod sighed heavily. "You could say that. We had another of our fights. A real bad one, this time."

"That's what I thought." Magnus frowned, leaning forward. "Look, I know that what happens between you two is your business, but I think that something more is going on here. I may be out of line, but I need to know exactly what took place." He glanced uneasily at the door, then back at Hot Rod. "Optimus didn't report for work today. He called in – late, I might add – asking me to cover for him. Roddy, I can't remember the last time that Optimus missed a day of work. Being the Autobot leader is his whole life. I checked with Ratchet – Optimus hasn't been by, so he's most likely not sick. Don't tell him this, but I had his movements traced via his comm. badge signal. He spent a lot of time in the Remembrance chamber, probably mourning the deceased Autobots, and then even more time on Cybertron's observation deck, apparently doing nothing in particular. None of the astrological charts or computer systems were accessed." He shook his head, wishing he had some explanation for his friend's bizarre behavior. "Optimus tends to act a bit strangely when something is bothering him. I was hoping you could explain it."

Hot Rod looked down at the floor, remorse flooding over him. "I guess you already know about Merciless' capture. I know it was stupid to let her into a restricted area, but she seemed so sweet, and she kept flattering me about how I was so smart and that I was the only one who could fulfill this one wish she had. She was good, I have to admit. She knew just how to sucker me into helping her." He grimaced at the thought. "Afterward, Optimus reamed me out. I guess he had good reason, but I was just so tired of hearing him nag at me at criticize me for every little thing I do. When you or Kup lecture me, it's not as bad, for some reason. I guess I feel like I'm being judged by him. Well, things came to a head for me. I couldn't stand being yelled at all the time, and I snapped. I said some terrible things that I didn't really mean."

"Like what?" Magnus said softly. This sounded bad.

Hot Rod hung his head even further with shame. "I told him that I didn't want him as my father, that I was tired of living in his shadow. And I told him that I wish he had stayed dead." He shuddered. "I'd never seen that look on his face before. It was like I punched him in the gut."

Magnus sighed heavily. "Oh, Roddy, I think you really hurt him." He stared fixedly at his desk top, seeming to debate something internally. After what seemed like ages, he looked up, coming to a decision. "Listen, Roddy, what I am about to tell you must never leave this room. You must breathe a word of this to no one. Primus knows I shouldn't be telling you this, but I think you have a right to know."

Hot Rod sat forward on the edge of his seat, nodding somberly. He may have been behaving somewhat irresponsibly lately, but he could always be counted on to keep a secret. It was this quality that had served him well as Autobot leader. "You have my word, Magnus. I'll take it to my grave."

Ultra Magnus looked uncomfortable with the subject at hand. "Optimus suffers from major depression, Roddy. The past nine million years have been very rough on him. He's been through more than any of us can imagine. A lot of Autobots seem to think that his job is easy, since that's how he's made it look. We both know from personal experience how wrong that assumption is. In a way, I think we are all like his children. The Autobot resistance would never have even gotten off the ground without him. He's always been able to hide his feelings – he's had a lot of practice over the years. He's gotten so attached to that battle mask that I don't think he ever takes it off anymore. Things weren't so bad when Alita was around – she always seemed to make him feel better. Sometimes he would come to me or Ratchet, and we tried to help him in any way we could, but there were other times that he would just clam up and not say a word to anybody. He would let whatever problem he had eat him up inside."

Magnus rubbed his optics wearily as Hot Rod sat dumbfounded. "He really hasn't been the same since he was resurrected, twice, by the Quintessons. He won't talk to me, and I know Ratchet is just as frustrated. Something is very wrong, and Optimus would rather let it destroy him than confide in anyone. He's been isolating himself and pulling away from the few friends he has left, and it's got me very worried. The only time I've seen him come close to being his old self was when he would talk about you. He has trouble expressing it, but he really does care about you. If only you could see how proud he is of you."

"Proud? Of me?" Hot Rod squeaked. This was certainly news to him! It seemed that Optimus had done nothing but criticize him. His mind struggled to comprehend what Magnus was telling him. Optimus Prime had always seemed so perfect to him, infallible in every way. Roddy had always tried to measure up and felt that he had fallen short. These past few days with the Autobot leader had come as a surprise – Optimus had feelings that could be hurt, and a temper fiery enough to match his own. And to think that he suffered from depression – it meant that things affected the large Autobot far deeper than anyone imagined.

"I feel so bad," the young Autobot whispered. "I had no idea… and I said such cruel things to him…."

"You couldn't have known," Magnus said kindly. "He does everything he can to cover it up and pretend it doesn't bother him. He's just going through a tough time right now. Primus, I'm so worried about him. It's never been this bad before." He hesitated, then continued, "I'm afraid he'll do… do something… irrevocable."

Roddy's mouth hung open in shock. The word that Magnus could not bring himself to voice was suicide. Could the mighty Optimus Prime be that despondent? Who knew, really? Who really knew Optimus Prime at all? Maybe things had gotten so unbearable that the Autobot leader could no longer face it. What a terrible irony – the one Autobot that tried to be there for everyone would no longer let anyone close to him. Hot Rod felt simply awful. He had a hand in this, and while he wasn't the root of Prime's misery, he certainly hadn't helped. He resolved right then and there to do everything he could to make things better for his mentor.

He stood up, straight and tall, full of courage and resolve. Magnus had to blink to be sure that it wasn't Rodimus Prime before him. "Don't worry, Magnus," the adolescent said with conviction. "I'll get to the bottom of this. No matter what it takes."


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Hot Rod hesitated outside the closed door at the end of the corridor. There were no markings to set it apart from any other door, but there was something formidable and imposing about it that kept most Autobots away. They viewed this place with a sort of awe. This was Optimus Prime's private quarters, his personal chambers, and it seemed to have an almost mystical quality to it that caused a hush to fall over anyone who passed nearby. Hot Rod had no such qualms – these used to be his quarters. They were the most fortified and best protected in Metroplex, and the safety of the Autobot leader was paramount, so he had inherited them from Optimus. It had been surreal, occupying the same living space that his idol had occupied so recently. It had made him feel even more like a murderer. At times he had felt like the room was haunted by the ghost of Optimus Prime. It had taken a long time to banish the 'ghost', which had been in his mind after all, and find some semblance of peace.

A bit nervously, he reached out and pressed the door chime. The buzzer sounded, and he waited… and waited… no response. "Metroplex, locate Optimus Prime," he spoke aloud.

"Optimus Prime is in his quarters," the behemoth city replied.

Roddy sighed in frustration, pressing the buzzer. Again, no response. He would not be deterred by silence. He pressed down on the buzzer, causing an endless chime to ring out. That would get Prime's attention for sure! Roddy was not one to be ignored.

Finally an irritable voice came from the other side of the door. "Who is it?"

"It's Roddy," he replied.

"I'm not in the mood for visitors."

"Please," Hot Rod pleaded. "I really have to talk to you. It can't wait."

There were a few tense moments of silence, and then the door slid open. Hot Rod tried to hide his shock – Optimus looked very weary. The Autobot leader struggled to put on his usual persona. "Now is really not a good time, Hot Rod. I'll have to ask you to make it brief." He stepped back, allowing his visitor to enter.

Roddy took in the scene with wide optics. The only illumination in the room was a large energon taper that burned blue – a special kind that was used in memorial services. Before it stood a holographic generator, displaying the figures of Prime's close friends who had passed on to the Matrix. Hot Rod recognized most of them – Ironhide, Prowl, Brawn… but there were a few that he didn't. In the middle stood the image of Alita One. Roddy felt a sudden pang – he was intruding on Prime's private memorial. This was definitely not good – he respected his father's need to mourn, but it was clearly keeping him from concentrating on the present.

"Lights," Optimus called, and the lights came on, banishing the darkness. He capped the memorial candle, extinguishing its haunting blue glow. Another gesture killed the holographic generator, and the display winked out into nothingness.

Hot Rod looked around surreptitiously – everything was pretty much the way it had been before Prime's death. He had had the unenviable task of moving out Prime's personal belongings after his death so that he could occupy the secure quarters. A beautiful portrait of Alita caught his gaze. He would bet real money that Optimus talked to it.

Optimus politely gestured to a large, Transformer-sized sofa. It was made mostly of metal, with a silicone cushion atop it to comfortably absorb weight. Hot Rod settled onto it gratefully, and Optimus sat next to him, leaving some space between them. Roddy sensed that the physical space represented Prime's desire to put some emotional distance between them.

Roddy coughed nervously. It was a rather silly mannerism – Transformers had no need of it, but it was something he had picked up from his time on Earth. This was more difficult than he had expected. He squashed down his unease and faced Optimus with a direct stare. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for what I said last night. It was cruel of me, and I didn't mean any of it. I wanted to apologize to you."

Optimus met his gaze evenly. "Hot Rod, you have nothing to apologize for. Everything you said was true. I can't be upset with you for voicing what was on your mind."

Hot Rod shook his head. "I was being unfair to you. I was upset and got carried away in the heat of the moment. It certainly wouldn't be the first time. It's been difficult for me to adjust to the idea that you are my father. When I inherited the Matrix, it was like everyone wanted me to be just like you. And now that they know that you are my progenitor, I can't even be Hot Rod without feeling pressure to live up to your example. That kind of pressure just got to me."

Optimus' gaze grew sad. "Roddy, I don't want you to be like me. Believe me, I wouldn't wish that on anyone. I've always admired your spirit. You never seemed to let this war get you down. You lived in the moment and enjoyed it. And you always speak your mind, even if it's not what other people want to hear. I don't want you to ever change. And as for pressure, you're not the only one who's feeling that." His voice grew harsher, in spite of himself. "Do you think it was easy for me to find out that I had a son, after all this time? I knew nothing about parenting, and suddenly you came into my life out of the blue. I tried to put my indiscretion with Phantasma behind me – I never imagined that it would come back to haunt me. I really wish that you had been created under happier circumstances. If I've been overbearing, it's because I'm trying to figure out this whole thing myself. I don't know how else to react."

Roddy was taken aback. He had never stopped to consider how Optimus felt about things. He had just assumed that his father knew what he was doing. He always seemed so capable, so in control of things. He mentally berated himself. Such ignorance had gotten him in this situation, and that was what he had come here to rectify. "I've been acting like a spoiled brat, and I know it. I never stopped to think about how I was affecting you. You've tried to be nice to me, and I've been nothing but a jerk. I know I've been hurtful. Magnus is really worried about you. He can tell that something is wrong."

Optimus sighed in exasperation. "Magnus has a big mouth. He should learn to keep it shut."

"He just wants to be a good friend to you," Roddy pressed on. "And he's right to be worried. You can deny it all you want, but I can tell that you're upset. Please, talk to me. Tell me what's wrong. I'm here for you."

Hot Rod could practically see Optimus retreat emotionally, his face becoming stony. "Nothing is wrong. You really should go, Hot Rod. I have a lot to do tomorrow and I need to rest."

"Ha! You won't get rid of me that easily," Roddy exclaimed. "You're just going to sit here and wallow in misery. Well, I'm not leaving until we have this out." He edged closer and put his hand on Prime's arm. The red and blue Autobot jerked back as if he'd been burned. Undaunted, Roddy continued. "You miss them, don't you? All of your friends. It's just not the same without them. You feel like you're all alone."

Optimus looked at the floor, and Roddy knew that he'd hit a nerve. "I really don't want to get into this."

Hot Rod took the large blue hand and squeezed it. "You're not alone. I'm here for you. We all are. You have people that care about you. Just trust in us." His voice grew soft. "Alita wouldn't want you to suffer this way."

Optimus jerked his hand back and looked away, clenching his fists tightly, but not before Roddy saw his optics brimming with fluid. The Quintessons had designed their "consumer goods" to please their customers, and as such modeled their behavior to mimic their clients. That included certain emotional responses, like tears. The large robot visibly struggled to reign in his emotions. A moment later he turned back to Hot Rod, who was surprised at the change. Optimus showed no sign of the mental turmoil within. "Don't mind me, Roddy. I'm just in a bit of a strange mood tonight. I just need some recharge. I'll be fine in the morning, you'll see."

'Yeah, right,' Roddy thought sourly. 'You mean you'll be hiding it better tomorrow. And by that point you'll have pushed me so far away I'll never be able to get close.' "Don't slag with a slagger," he said aloud. "I know all about pretending that nothing is wrong. I did exactly the same thing when I became Autobot leader. Suddenly it was like I was all alone. I didn't know who to turn to. Even Springer and Arcee treated me differently. My life had turned upside down, and I didn't know how to deal with it. I just cried myself to sleep a lot. And I know you're doing the same thing. Come on, Optimus. You can't keep it inside forever. It'll destroy you."

"Please, Roddy," Optimus choked, feeling his hard-won control slipping away. "Don't do this to me," he whispered. He began to tremble with the effort of holding everything inside. The last thing he wanted to do was lose control.

Hot Rod knew that he had made a major crack in his mentor's emotional armor. He had to break it away in order to reach Optimus and help him. It would be painful, but it had to be done. "Alita wouldn't want you to mourn her like this. She'd want you to let go. I'll help you, but you have to trust me."

Prime's composure crumbled completely. He covered his face in his hands, trying to regain control of himself and failing miserably. With a strangled cry he jumped up and fled into his recharging chamber, the door sliding closed behind him.

Hot Rod stood and approached the door. He traced random patterns with his finger, turning the matter over in his mind. He knew the layout of these quarters very well, and that this door had no lock. It would be a simple matter to open it and go inside. Should he respect Optimus Prime's privacy, or should he violate it even further? It was painfully obvious that Optimus wanted to be alone, but that just might be the worst thing for him at the moment. Everyone else had left him alone out of respect, and look how bad things had gotten. Roddy knew that privacy was very precious to the Autobot leader, simply because it was so scarce, but that privacy had also allowed negative thoughts and emotions to thrive. It was time to clean house and exorcise the demons that tormented his friend.

His mind made up, he activated the sensor and the door slid open. Light spilled in from the open door, illuminating a figure huddled in the corner, trembling with grief. Choked sobs escaped, no matter how much the figure wanted to keep them bottled up. He resembled nothing like the proud and mighty leader that he was. He looked small and vulnerable, and very much alone.

That would have to change. Hot Rod gently approached the shaking figure and touched his shoulder. Optimus seemed to barely notice, wrapped up in his misery. "It's okay," Roddy whispered, wrapping his arm around the broad shoulders. "Just let it out. I won't leave you alone. We're in this together."

"P-please, Roddy," Optimus managed to choke out. "I don't want you to see me this way." He tried to shrink away and hide his tear-streaked face in his folded arms.

Roddy hugged his father as best as he could. "I don't give a damn what you look like. We're family, right? We have to stick together. We're a team."

Optimus was too overcome by sobs to say any more. Hot Rod contented himself by providing silent support. This was what Optimus really needed – a shoulder to cry on, someone he could trust with his true feelings. He needed some kind of release of all of that pain so that it didn't consume him.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the flood of tears subsided. Optimus looked up, shaken but a lot more relaxed. Hot Rod gave him a gentle smile. "Better?"

Optimus nodded sheepishly, mopping at his face with a cleansing rag he plucked from a small compartment.

"Let's sit up here. It'll be a lot more comfortable than on the floor." He tugged Optimus up, and they both sat down on the large recharge berth. "Now I want you to tell me exactly what is bothering you. You won't get any better if you keep it all to yourself."

Optimus was silent for a few moments, wondering where to begin. It all had become one mass of misery to him. He had kept to himself for so long that it was difficult to voice his thoughts. "Things have been difficult ever since I came back. I never dreamed that things could change so quickly in just a few short years. I had always been afraid of what would become of the Autobot army after I died – I was glad to see that you had carried on for me. But everything had changed so much. I had to get used to a somewhat different command structure, and the special projects, such as the EDC and the warp gates. It was petty of me, but I began to feel superfluous. You were dead-on about me – I had become so stuck in the routine of the war that I hadn't really made many innovations. I was glad to see that life had gone on, but it was like I no longer had a place in the Autobot army."

He looked at the floor. This subject was painful to talk about. "I didn't want to come back, you know. After so many millennia of endless war, I was glad to be at rest. I was inside the Matrix, at peace with myself, reunited with all of my friends. Alita followed close behind – I learned that she had died while distracting Unicron so that her femmes could escape in a shuttle. At last, we were together, closer than ever before. Being in the Matrix was like being wrapped up in love. Sometimes I lost track of my sense of self, caught up in the unity of all of the sparks. Primus' essence bound us together. I wanted for nothing."

Hot Rod nodded silently, unwilling to interrupt the flow of words that had been dammed up for so long. He himself had taken a trip into the Matrix for information on the Quintessons, and while his experience had been radically different, he had still felt as if a blanket of love had been drawn around him. It had been very difficult for him to leave. He could only image what it had been like for Optimus to return after such an experience.

"Time has no meaning in the Matrix. The sparks inside only have an awareness of the outside world through the Autobot leader. We all sensed your worries about being the new Autobot leader and wanted to help. I tried my best to reassure you, but the Matrix distorted the message. I could only communicate with you properly during your dreams. And even then, you seemed to misinterpret my presence as blame."

Hot Rod looked at the elder Autobot in amazement. He had dreamed of the deceased Autobot leader often, and each time it had been upsetting. Roddy felt as if he were being haunted, accused of causing Prime's death and usurping his position. And all this time, Optimus had been trying to reassure him, convince him of his self-worth and capabilities.

Optimus continued, oblivious to Roddy's reaction. "And then I was torn away from it all. My spark was ripped from the Matrix and thrust back into my body shell. Oh, how it hurt! I was left confused and disoriented." His hands curled instinctively into fists. "Curse those thrice-damned Quintessons! I finally had found the peace that I had been searching for, and they took me away from it. They found a way to reach my spark through my old body and force me into some mockery of life. They violated and twisted me, using me as a weapon to wipe out those that I had fought so hard to protect. I tried to fight their control, but their grip on me was too tight. If you hadn't intervened, Roddy, we all would have died for nothing." He looked at his companion with respect. "I know it wasn't easy to face up to me, but you did an admirable job. You freed me from their control. I wanted to put an end to the Quintessons' plan, and return to the Matrix once more, as a martyr. But that wasn't to be." His hands shook, but he barely noticed. "As the flagship began to explode, I felt my spark slipping away. I tried to rejoin the Matrix, but it denied me. It rejected me, Roddy!" His voice became anguished. "I was stuck in limbo. Alpha Trion spoke to me. He told me that I was not meant to return to the Matrix, that I had a purpose in the world of the living. But I didn't want to hear it. I begged him to let me come back. I didn't want to live again. He turned away from me. And then I was reborn. But I was never the same."

"I can imagine," Hot Rod said sympathetically. He had had no ideal what Optimus had gone through. How could anyone return to a normal life after such an experience?

"I wasn't supposed to remember what it was like in the Matrix," he explained. "I think that Ratchet only has fleeting memories, and I'm glad. It's too hard to go on, knowing what I left behind."

"What about Alita?" Hot Rod knew that she was at the heart of the problem. "Couldn't you reactivate her?" When the mausoleum had collided with the sun, many of the Autobot bodies had been sucked harmlessly into the void of space instead of being destroyed. Alita's body was one of the ones recovered and was now interred deep in the bowels of Cybertron, in the same manner of the Decepticon crypt.

Prime's features twisted in pain, and Hot Rod braced himself for another emotional outburst. But after a moment, the pain subsided and the dialogue continued. "I could. Certainly I could, and I wrestle with this issue every day. It would be all too easy to bring her back, but I could never live with myself. She would resent me for it. She is in the Matrix, where she belongs. She is at peace, and I can't betray that just for the sake of companionship." Hot Rod was amazed at Prime's conviction. He would rather live alone than bring back his beloved just to satisfy his own loneliness.

"Sometimes I just can't take it," Optimus whispered. "I can't take the memories of her. I think I hear her voice, or her footsteps, but it's nothing but my imagination. When it's at its worst, I feel the Matrix reaching out to me. It's her, Roddy. She's trying to comfort me, but it just hurts too much. It's nice to know that she's still there for me, but I'll never be able to hold her again."

Hot Rod had a thought so terrible he wasn't sure he could voice it. "How badly do you want to rejoin the Matrix, Optimus? Would – would you take your own life?"

Optimus looked away guiltily, unable to meet the concerned optics before him. "I almost did. Up on Metroplex's observation deck today, I felt so small compared to all the billions of stars, and I wanted to be back in the Matrix more than anything else. There was nothing to be afraid of there, and I was never alone or hurt. I knew it was a terrible sin to take my life since so many have already died, but I couldn't find any other way out. I felt so trapped. And the Matrix – it stopped me. It wouldn't give me the release that I wanted. I felt betrayed, as if it had turned its back on me. I felt rejected even more." He looked up gratefully as Roddy took his hand. "I've learned from the Matrix that everything happens for a reason, even if it doesn't seem to make sense. My resurrection served a purpose, and it wouldn't let me escape whatever destiny held."

"I know all about that bit. Destiny be damned!" Roddy exclaimed.

Optimus actually managed to crack a small smile underneath his faceplate. Hot Rod wondered idly what he looked like under that mask. Perhaps Optimus would trust him enough one day to show him. "I'm glad that it stopped me, actually. I know that my death would cause pain. I know you would have blamed yourself, Roddy, though it wouldn't have been your fault. I would never want to hurt you like that."

"I'm just glad I could be here for you."

Optimus squeezed his hand in silent gratitude.

"Being the Autobot leader is a real pain in the diodes, isn't it?" Roddy shook his head. And before he knew it, he was spilling his guts as well, talking about the loneliness and insecurity he had felt. As the two compared notes, Hot Rod could not help but marvel at the similar problems they had had. He had always assumed that it was just him, that Optimus had breezed through it. He had always made it seem so easy! It was nice to know that Optimus wasn't infallible, that Roddy didn't have to live up to the legacy of a perfect being.

Hot Rod did not notice the late hour until Prime's optics began to flicker and his head drooped slightly. "You're exhausted," he chided. "Get some recharge already!"

Before he knew it, Optimus had been pushed down on the recharge berth. "But I'm not… tired…" he protested. The sentence trailed off as he entered recharge mode.

Hot Rod remained for a short while to make sure that his friend was resting comfortably. Satisfied, he turned to go, shutting off the lights as he left. "Pleasant dreams," he whispered. He hoped fervently that the crisis had passed.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Optimus Prime awoke from the first nightmare-free night with a sense of purpose. A germ of an idea was beginning to grow in his mind. He let it develop on its own as he attended to business. He even stopped by Magnus' office for a brief chat. While they only made small talk, Ultra Magnus was amazed at the difference in his friend. Optimus seemed a lot happier than he had been in a long time. He was not quite out of the woods yet, so to speak, but he was well on his way to recovery. 'Hot Rod must be a miracle worker!' he thought to himself. He had never known what to do when Optimus got into one of his moods. He had stayed away out of fear of making things worse. He was also surprised at the topic of conversation – Optimus eventually broached the topic of Rodimus Prime. Magnus told Optimus all that he could – the young Autobot had been rash and hasty to act, and severely lacked in patience and discipline, but he had nonetheless made a fine leader, better than Magnus himself had been. Optimus had seemed pleased by what he'd been told.

Optimus returned to his office, taking care of some paperwork (the pile was a lot smaller today – maybe he should delegate to Magnus more often) as he turned over Magnus' words in his head. Finally, as if coming to a decision, he activated his comm. line and summoned Hot Rod.

Hot Rod entered the office warily, unsure what awaited him. Optimus offered him a seat, and he took it a bit hesitantly, wondering what this was all about. Surely he wasn't in trouble again…?

His surprise and confusion grew as Optimus took the chair next to him on the other side of the desk and turned it to face him. Whatever this was about, it seemed that Optimus wanted to discuss it as equals, without the desk and the power it signified, in the way.

Optimus Prime fixed the younger robot with a direct gaze, and while it made Hot Rod uncomfortable, he did not shy away from it. "Roddy, you've given me a lot to think about. There's something that needs to be done. In fact, I should have done it long ago. If I hadn't been so distracted by my own problems, I would have seen it sooner." Hot Rod did not speak, but his optics conveyed a questioning look. "You said something to me last night that got me thinking. You said that we were a team. I see now why we were having so many problems – we were trying to get along together with an imbalance of power. I was bossy and demanding, and you were rebellious and resentful. I think we make better friends than father and son, don't you think?" Roddy nodded dumbly, still not seeing where this was heading.

"I've never told you how proud I am of you, Roddy. You've accomplished more in a short few years than I have in millennia. A lot of it is sheer genius – I would have never thought of creating the EDC so that the humans could have a hand in their own protection. And you knew exactly how to handle Galvatron." He leaned closer. "How do you do it, Roddy? I've become accustomed to anticipating Megatron's actions. At times it seemed that I understood him better than a lot of my Autobot friends. But Galvatron is simply insane. There seems to be no method to his madness. It's precisely that random factor that worries me. I have no idea how to handle him."

Hot Rod laughed. "Believe me, with him you have to expect the unexpected. He's crazier than the entire population of Webworld put together, but there is occasionally a slyness that can take you by surprise. One time he nearly had me convinced that he had an 'ultimate weapon' that would destroy the Earth, when all he had was a dummy detonator. A bald-faced bluff like that is the work of a sharp mechanoid. But then again, he also saves us a lot of time by beating up on his own troops."

Optimus nodded sagely. "I really value your opinions, Roddy. You have a different perspective on things that can be refreshing. You don't have a problem telling me where I've gone wrong. Most of the others just accept my decisions at face value. The Autobots have to constantly evolve to avoid extinction. I've lost that ability, but you can help me get it back. Think about it, Roddy. Have you really been able to go back to being Hot Rod? As much as you despised it, doesn't a part of you miss being Rodimus Prime? Don't you miss being the bearer of the Matrix?"

"No!" Roddy cried, leaping up and upsetting the chair. "I don't ever want that again!"

Optimus watched the display of temper calmly. "You're not fooling anyone, Roddy. Not me, and not yourself. Last night I felt the Matrix reaching for you, and you were mentally reaching for it in return. The loss of the Matrix has left you hollow, and you've been trying to distract yourself with crazy behavior that has gotten you in trouble again and again. You have to accept your destiny, as I have mine. You are the Chosen One, Roddy. You are Rodimus Prime. I've told you that everything happens for a reason. At the time, I didn't understand what had happened between myself and Phantasma, but now it's clear. You were meant to be created. Primus ensured that that would happen, one way or another."

Hot Rod faced Optimus, trembling with a mixture of emotions – anger, fear, uncertainty. Optimus stood and gently helped his friend into his chair once more. "Just hear me out, Hot Rod. You won't be alone this time. I'll be here to guide you. You'll be my second-in-command. We'll be a team. I'll give you stability and teach you patience, and you can help me be innovative. This job is just too big for one person. I need someone to help me keep my sanity." He shuddered as he thought of how close he had come to the void. "I can't handle this alone."

Optimus let that sink in for a moment, then continued. "I knew from the first moment that I saw you that you were the Chosen One. The Matrix sensed it within you. You actually look a bit like Primus, which I think is more than a coincidence. I never told you about your future because it was too soon. I knew that events would unfold as they were meant to, and I was not to interfere. As I was dying, I sensed that you were still not ready to confront your destiny. That is why I passed the Matrix along to Ultra Magnus. I knew that he would at least be a capable leader until you were ready to assume your role as the Chosen One. You were always meant to be Rodimus Prime."

Roddy thought it over as his best he could. His mind was churning, and it was difficult to catch a coherent thought. He was not Rodimus! He never wanted to be Rodimus again! But a little voice spoke up from within. Was that really true? Was it Rodimus that he hated, or the experiences that Rodimus had had? With Optimus around, he needn't feel self-doubt, or loneliness. Perhaps he could do things right this time. They could do it, as a team.

He mentally reached out to the Matrix, and it responded, extending mental tendrils toward him, beckoning to him. Telling him to embrace his destiny. He hesitantly approached the Autobot leader and pressed his hand against Prime's chestplate. He could feel the Matrix thrumming with energy. Optimus, as always, was right. This was his destiny, and there was no running from it. Prime slowly opened his chest compartment and removed the Matrix. It glowed softly, recognizing the two Chosen Ones, the only two that could harness its energy. It was already beginning to fill since the Hate Plague. As if in a trance, Hot Rod took the Matrix and placed it within himself. A great feeling of peace stole over him as his body expanded to become Rodimus Prime. This was how it was meant to be.

Optimus Prime's optics beamed a smile at his new second-in-command. "Welcome back, Rodimus Prime." Rodimus moved to salute his superior, but Optimus caught him up in a bear hug. Roddy was too startled to do anything but hug back. "I'm so proud of you," his father whispered, and Roddy finally felt worthy of that pride. Worthy of being a Prime.

Optimus drew back and nodded in approval at the change. "Now that you've fully accepted the Matrix and your identity as Rodimus Prime, you will not revert back to Hot Rod, even when you are separated from the Matrix. The change has become permanent. The only thing fighting it before was your own desire to hold on to Hot Rod."

'So that's it,' Rodimus thought to himself. He had always wondered why he reverted back to Hot Rod without the Matrix, when Optimus stayed the same. He had always thought that it was due to something that Alpha Trion had done.

A sly smile stole over Roddy's face, and Optimus braced himself. 'Here we go….'

"So," Roddy smirked, "does this mean that I've been spared from the armory?"

"Only if you behave yourself," Optimus warned.

"And my rank is effective immediately?"

"Yessss…" Optimus was already wondering what he had gotten himself into.

"Good!" Roddy exclaimed. "Then my first order is for you to take a vacation. Scat! Shoo! Get going!"

"Sheesh, Roddy! Let's take this one thing at a time. I'll go after you're settled in your position, okay?"

"I'll hold you to that," Rodimus warned. "My second action will be to find you a femme. 'Cuz Primus knows you need to get 'some'."

"Roddy!" Optimus exclaimed, shocked. "Honestly! I do not need to get 'some', as you so crudely put it. Besides, I need some more time to heal. Alita and I were like one person, and getting over her loss will take some time."

"Okay, but when you're done, I'll start throwing the girls your way!"

Optimus groaned. Was it too late to take the Matrix back?

"Lighten up, Op!" Roddy laughed. "We're going to make a great team!"

The End


End file.
